


Healing Hands

by idelthoughts



Series: Mortinez Fics [11]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Back Pain, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Massage, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry always made her feel better—he had a knack for it.  Never what she expected, but always what she needed.  And today, she needs a really good massage or she's never going to move again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> For the anon prompt: _Jo hurt her back, Henry massages it and she discovers that she has deep feelings for Henry._

Jo eyed her couch.  Sitting was out of the question, but getting from vertical to horizontal without bending at the middle was a logistical nightmare.  She eventually decided that lying on her stomach was the best of a bad bunch of options, and very gingerly put a knee onto the couch.

Her back screamed in protest and Jo gasped and froze in the awkward position, breathing slowly until the pain subsided into a throbbing ache.

Henry’s hurried footsteps came from the direction of the kitchen and he came around into her line of sight.  He had a heat pack in one hand, an ice pack in the other, and an empathetic grimace on his face that made her cringe with embarrassment. She had tears in her eyes as she laughed weakly through clenched teeth.

“This is so pathetic.  I feel like an old woman, throwing my back out.”

One wrong step, a slip in a patch of mud, and she’d gone down like a ton of bricks.  Practically nothing at all, and yet it was like someone had stabbed her through the base of her spine. Hanson couldn’t get out of picking the kids up from after-school care, so Henry had brought her home.

He’d driven her car here, which was a terrifying nightmare experience she never wanted to have again.  She’d kept her eyes closed most of the time, trying to manage the pain as every jerking stop, start, and alarming swerve Henry made sent bolts of agony through her.  A chorus of honking horns and muttered curses from Henry accompanied their voyage across the city, but mercifully her car was in one piece. More than she could say for herself.

“Back injuries are commonplace at any age.  I’ve had quite a few myself over the years,” Henry said.  He set the packs down on the coffee table and grabbed a throw pillow, placing it just in front of her knee.  “Lie down with this under your hips.  It will take the strain off your lower back.”

Jo carefully lowered herself down, adjusting her position until she was prone, face down, with her hips propped up a bit by the pillow.  She had to admit it did feel a little better.  Henry laid the heat pack across her lower back and she gave a muffled groan into the couch cushion.  She was going to lay here and never move again.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Anything I can do to help, Jo.”

He was quiet a moment, and Jo turned her head towards him.  She could barely see him through the curtain of her hair, and lifting her arm to shove it aside would mean moving.  Even the thought of moving hurt, so she blew out a breath to puff it aside. It only partially worked. She looked at him through the strands.

“The painkillers are going to kick in any minute.  I’ll be fine, you don’t have to stay.” Sounding confident about that was difficult with her face mashed into the cushion, and Henry only raised his eyebrow at her, cocking his head so he could look at her straight on.

"I’d be remiss as both a doctor and a gentleman to abandon you at this point.” 

Henry sat on the coffee table by her and swept her hair out of her face.  His fingers grazed over her cheekbone and up her brow as he made a second pass to clear away the few remaining hairs. His smile turned soft and gentle, not the pity or doctorly optimism he’d had before. Jo barely had time to blink before he pulled his hand back and rested his elbows on his knees.

"The muscles are in spasm.  As you don’t have a history of chronic back pain, I’m sure once they release you’ll feel much better.  I can give you a massage and see what I can do to speed the process.”

“You don’t need to—”  Jo automatically lifted her head to look at Henry as she spoke, and a stunningly sharp pain shot through her entire core.  She stifled a cry and screwed her eyes shut tight.  Henry put a hand on her shoulder to urge her back down and she slowly relaxed until she was flat against the couch again.  She breathed slowly a few times, and then nodded fractionally.  “Yeah.  Yeah, okay.  My pride’s gone, I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

"I’ll be right back,” he said with a chuckle.  “Keep the heat pack on.”

He was back in a minute and settled on the sliver of couch next to her hips.  She shuffled over as much as she could to give him space as he removed the heat pack. She was concentrating too hard on not jostling her back to give too much thought to her bruised dignity, but Henry seemed to know that she wasn’t up for any teasing and said nothing.

“I’m going to untuck your shirt.  I have some lotion from your bathroom, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”

He tugged at her shirt, and through the subtle sounds of his movement and breathing, the pop of the cap on the lotion—her hand cream from beside the sink, judging by the smell—she could picture him sitting next to her; that studious, concentrated expression where his bottom lip pouted out slightly, his eyebrows drawn together, rubbing his hands together to warm the cream and spread it out.

Then he put his hands on the small of her back, palms flat, and the cream on his hands was only slightly cool. His thumbs pressed in as his hands slid up her spine to the bottom of her ribs, consistent pressure along the length of her snarling muscles, then his hands swept out smoothly to each side, around and along her waist and down again to the small of her back. He travelled the same path once more, this time the heels of his palms digging in harder, passing easily over her slippery skin, bringing desperate relief alongside the pain. His hands were large and strong, steady and sure, and she completely forgot herself as every bit of her disappeared but for what he touched.

"Oh my god,” she mumbled into the couch.  “That’s amazing.”

“It’s been a while, but I think I remember how this goes.”

His warm, gentle chuckle was soft, and with her eyes closed his voice seemed very close.  A twinge of embarrassment hit her when she remembered that this was Henry sitting with his thigh pressed to her side, hands on her bare back, with her nearly drooling.

His thumbs settled low into the dip above her hipbones and rubbed slow circles.  Jo exhaled into the pressure, as Henry hit the knot of muscles dead on that were crippling her. Slow, methodical circles, digging in deep enough to reach inside—oh, that was incredible.  She breathed out a moan when he pushed up again and something released.

Henry’s hands stopped, the pressure lightening, and Jo shut her mouth tight, burying her face harder into the couch cushions.  Okay, now _that_ was embarrassing.

“Let me know if I hurt you,” he said.

"Uh, no.  It feels good.”

He made a little noise of acknowledgment and then he dug in again, his fingers curving around her hips as his thumbs drew those tiny circles.  It hurt in the best way possible, but this time she breathed carefully and quietly into the pain.  She was sinking into the couch, the tension bleeding out of her with each move of his hands.  Her mind started to drift, and Henry’s hands drew longer passes over her muscles, stretching and lengthening her, thumbs sweeping down under the edge of her pants, along her hip bones to her sides.  Her skin was warm, tingling where he touched her, where his legs pressed against her side.

The pain was fading between Henry’s massage and the painkillers, and with that in the background all she could think about was Henry’s hands all over her, that he’d spent the last ten minutes nearly silent as he massaged her into a puddle of ecstasy, focusing without comment or complaint on her, her wellbeing, working with steady efficiency to make her feel better.

He always made her feel better. He had a knack for it. Never what she expected, but always what she needed.

Henry’s hands slowed and then stilled.  His palms rested flat over her lower back, hot and comforting over the dulled pain, like he was pulling the tension out of her.  She breathed into him, filling his palms.  His hands didn’t move, just staying there strong and still and sure, and the heat of him seeped into her, and she drifted.

Not just better—safe. She felt safe with him. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her like this. Caring, giving, without expectation or demand. It hadn’t occurred to her until now how much she needed it. How much she wanted it. How much she wanted it from _Henry_.

Henry’s hands fell away, leaving a cool spot on her back. Gentle tugs pulled her shirt back into place, and then Henry’s hand was on her back again, this time between her shoulder blades. Jo sucked in a breath, blinking her eyes open, feeling like she was swimming up from the depths of the ocean.

“How do you feel?” Henry asked. His voice was very quiet, very low.

“Better. Thank you.”

“Any time, Jo.”

She didn’t feel inclined to move, and Henry didn’t seem in a hurry to either. Neither of them said anything for a while, and Henry’s hand stayed on her back as his body heat soaked into her side. Jo closed her eyes again and willed the world to stop turning so she could stay in this uncomplicated moment.

She didn’t know what to do about her feelings for Henry, but at times like this it didn’t matter what would happen tomorrow—only that it was happening _now_ , and she was happy.


End file.
